Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Wishful

I turned my head to gaze out one of the three windows of my living room. For the moment it was quiet and peaceful. It was early evening and the sun was glancing off the lilac tree situated at the corner of my neighbours house across the street. All at once, my sensations were flooded and memories came rushing back and I realized, I was wishful.

We won't be going anywhere this summer. There aren't any fantastic across border plans happening. This year, this summer we will have a staycation. I am teaching Friday mornings and Hubby is changing jobs. Neither of us is going anywhere.....at least anywhere far away. Nope, this summer will be filled with back yard barbecue, summer reading and the noise of the city.

And I am wishful.

Who am I anyway? Once upon a time, I hated to go anywhere. It's lot's of work to pack up the camper and take off for the weekend. You need to grocery shop. You need ice. You need bug repellent.

We used to go almost every weekend. By the time Hubby was off work Friday, I would have the camper packed and ready to go. We'd hop in our green Ford truck which hauled our camper and towed our little red boat behind which inevitably would break down AGAIN and we'd get to Piprell Lake or Anglin Lake or once even Morin Lake just in time for a wiener roast. It would always be cooler at the lake. By sun down you'd need your bunny hug and warm socks.

Thinking about it.....I could almost smell the campfire.

So wishful.

Don't get me wrong! I love my little corner in the city. I love my little house and my little yard. I love that they are building a new Walmart Supercentre right here so I won't have to drive to the south side anymore. I have great neighbours..... But there's that nagging feeling. That feeling that it would be so much more relaxing somewhere else.

I am NOT a tenter. Back when I was a kid, my family camped in a tent. We had fold up cots to sleep on at night. Soon, my Dad thought it would be more comfortable for us if we were up off the ground. So he turned his utility and tent into a tent trailer. We were camping in style! Then Dad had to put it up once too many times in the rain. The family got a camper. That was something else! Who needed to cook over the fire anymore when you were equipped with a stove and fridge? Eventually, Dad upgraded to a motor home and donned the personalized license plate UP N GO. That's the evolution of camping.

Once back when I was about 10 years old…..maybe even younger…..we were camping in that homemade-fold-’em-up-tent-trailer and it was the middle of the night.  I was asleep as you can imagine one would be in the middle of the night, when my Mom woke me up.  “Wake up and be quiet…..there’s a moose outside.”  How much quieter can one be when said person is asleep?  Indeed there was a moose outside.  And you could hear him chomping.  We must have parked amongst his midnight snack buffet table.

Another time, when I was not so child like, we were camping and heard rustling in the woods, or maybe it was the sound of a large animal running down the gravel street.  At any rate, it was not a sound any human could make.  We had been gathered around the campfire swapping fish stories when this sound occurred.  I looked at my Mom.  My Mom looked at my Dad.  We all looked at each other and made a mad dash for the motor home.  That is, all except Hubby who had failed to hear the sound we heard.  He didn’t know what had happened to make us high tail it inside so quickly.  We had left the poor guy in the dust wondering what the heck had happened!

We always had our share of mishaps when we were camping.  Something always went wrong with our boat trailer.  It was always needing repairs.  On one of Hubby’s and mine maiden voyages we locked ourselves out of the truck camper during a rain storm.  Then there was the time that the support on the tent trailer broke and we hauled the picnic table over and propped that end up with oars from the boat.  There was the time that the spare tire rolled out of the wheel well during the night making me think a wild animal was charging the camper.  And there was the time that a bear left us his calling card by rubbing up against the truck camper and leaving scuff marks.

Yup.  Good times.

Snap.

Crackle

Spark!

That’s the sound of the campfire under the stars and northern lights.  It’s calling to me.

And I am wishful.

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